she answered with a slight smile.
That seemed like a lot of driving but just to quench his curiosity, he asked, “And you’ll be driving out to California?”
“Yes.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of flying?”
She laughed. God, he loved her laugh. “I hate flying.”
“A lot of people have a fear of flying….”
“I don’t fear it, not exactly,” she said. Pursing her lips, she started to explain, “When I was younger, my mom and I flew everywhere. Whenever it got a little bumpy, she’d wrap her arms around me until it was over. The first time I flew solo, the turbulence was so bad it felt as if the plane was being torn apart. In my mind, it was a warning.”
Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “How so?”
“I had basically told my mother to go to Hell and then I told her that I was going to live with my grandparents. She didn’t stop me even though I saw the hurt and longing in her eyes,” she said flatly. He could see the pain in her eyes and he wanted to know more but she didn’t know him well enough yet. Maybe someday he would learn her secrets. With a casual shrug, she continued, “I figure the next time I fly, the plane will go down. That’s why I drive whenever I can. It’s… less risky. And, yes, I know the statistics but they don’t seem to matter.”
There was a hint of laughter in her voice so he smiled as he said, “You poor thing.”
She grinned back as she said, “Yeah, well, it was the first time I really threw a temper tantrum and I made the most of it.”
He chuckled, glad to see the hurt receding even though he still had a million more questions. Still smiling, he asked, “Well, what about your dad?”
As her lashes lowered, he wished he would have kept the question to himself even though he was interested in hearing the answer. Though he could hear the strain in her voice, see it in the set of her shoulders. she answered breezily, “He’s not in the picture.”
Even though it was none of his business, he asked, “Why not?”
She huffed out a wry laugh, “It’s funny you should ask. He’s the reason I threw my temper tantrum.”
This was too interesting to ignore, so he silently encouraged her to continue. Making a face at him, she did after a moment. “My mom was an aspiring actress and while she was pretty enough to get parts in music videos, she couldn’t act to save her life, which is funny since all she does is act. Anyway, I was the result of a fling with some guy she met during one of these shoots, she’s just not sure which one.”
“Your mother actually told you that?” At her nod, he winced in sympathy, “Ouch.”
“It wasn’t something any fourteen-year-old wanted to hear about her parents,” Ana said with a self-deprecating sound. “Especially since I wanted my parents’ love story to be a grand, tragically beautiful love affair, like she couldn’t be with him because he gave his last breath protecting her or he was some fantastically wealthy prince of a foreign land and he couldn’t marry her because she was just a commoner and she couldn’t stay with him because she couldn’t bear to watch him marry someone else. Apparently, I read way too many gothic romance novels growing up.”
“Poor Ana,” he murmured.
“It seemed a lot worse when I was younger,” she admitted with a mocking grin.
“You must have gotten your looks from her,” he said, because the girl sitting in front of him was fast becoming the prettiest woman he had ever seen.
She snorted, “I look nothing like my mom, except for my hair.” Grabbing her braid, she held it up and grimaced, though he thought it was beautiful. “Strawberry blond. Mom has these intense amber eyes that can just look into a person’s soul. She’s elegant and fashionable and glamorous and I’m just me, a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl.”
“You’re beautiful,” he blurted, briefly wondering if she was strawberry blond all over or if she preferred no hair between her slender
That seemed like a lot of driving but just to quench his curiosity, he asked, “And you’ll be driving out to California?”
“Yes.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of flying?”
She laughed. God, he loved her laugh. “I hate flying.”
“A lot of people have a fear of flying….”
“I don’t fear it, not exactly,” she said. Pursing her lips, she started to explain, “When I was younger, my mom and I flew everywhere. Whenever it got a little bumpy, she’d wrap her arms around me until it was over. The first time I flew solo, the turbulence was so bad it felt as if the plane was being torn apart. In my mind, it was a warning.”
Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “How so?”
“I had basically told my mother to go to Hell and then I told her that I was going to live with my grandparents. She didn’t stop me even though I saw the hurt and longing in her eyes,” she said flatly. He could see the pain in her eyes and he wanted to know more but she didn’t know him well enough yet. Maybe someday he would learn her secrets. With a casual shrug, she continued, “I figure the next time I fly, the plane will go down. That’s why I drive whenever I can. It’s… less risky. And, yes, I know the statistics but they don’t seem to matter.”
There was a hint of laughter in her voice so he smiled as he said, “You poor thing.”
She grinned back as she said, “Yeah, well, it was the first time I really threw a temper tantrum and I made the most of it.”
He chuckled, glad to see the hurt receding even though he still had a million more questions. Still smiling, he asked, “Well, what about your dad?”
As her lashes lowered, he wished he would have kept the question to himself even though he was interested in hearing the answer. Though he could hear the strain in her voice, see it in the set of her shoulders. she answered breezily, “He’s not in the picture.”
Even though it was none of his business, he asked, “Why not?”
She huffed out a wry laugh, “It’s funny you should ask. He’s the reason I threw my temper tantrum.”
This was too interesting to ignore, so he silently encouraged her to continue. Making a face at him, she did after a moment. “My mom was an aspiring actress and while she was pretty enough to get parts in music videos, she couldn’t act to save her life, which is funny since all she does is act. Anyway, I was the result of a fling with some guy she met during one of these shoots, she’s just not sure which one.”
“Your mother actually told you that?” At her nod, he winced in sympathy, “Ouch.”
“It wasn’t something any fourteen-year-old wanted to hear about her parents,” Ana said with a self-deprecating sound. “Especially since I wanted my parents’ love story to be a grand, tragically beautiful love affair, like she couldn’t be with him because he gave his last breath protecting her or he was some fantastically wealthy prince of a foreign land and he couldn’t marry her because she was just a commoner and she couldn’t stay with him because she couldn’t bear to watch him marry someone else. Apparently, I read way too many gothic romance novels growing up.”
“Poor Ana,” he murmured.
“It seemed a lot worse when I was younger,” she admitted with a mocking grin.
“You must have gotten your looks from her,” he said, because the girl sitting in front of him was fast becoming the prettiest woman he had ever seen.
She snorted, “I look nothing like my mom, except for my hair.” Grabbing her braid, she held it up and grimaced, though he thought it was beautiful. “Strawberry blond. Mom has these intense amber eyes that can just look into a person’s soul. She’s elegant and fashionable and glamorous and I’m just me, a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl.”
“You’re beautiful,” he blurted, briefly wondering if she was strawberry blond all over or if she preferred no hair between her slender
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